


lest it come true

by CirrusGrey



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (minor) loss of identity, Episode Related, Gen, Helplessness, Short, Suffering, and then you realize you just want a couple hundred words of the antagonist having a bad time, episode 192 spoilers, it's bad but it's happening to Jonah so it's fine, rating is for dark themes, tfw you've been struggling to write a plot speculation fic about the main characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:47:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29064570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CirrusGrey/pseuds/CirrusGrey
Summary: SPOILERS FOR MAG 192!!!Jonah Magnus won.
Comments: 21
Kudos: 79





	lest it come true

**Author's Note:**

> "Be careful what you wish for, lest it come true." - Aesop's Fables

_ He won. _

A thousand horrors fill his mind, images of torture, destruction, death. They flood his senses in an overwhelming torrent, too many to process all at once, and yet he sees them all anyway.

Jonah hovers in the center of the room, in the center of the Panopticon, in the center of  _ everything. _ His body is locked rigid, head thrown back, unblinking eyes fixed eternally on the clear glass ceiling as the litany of suffering spills from his mouth, bleeding out into the world around him in a rush of static. Far out and away in the endless sky, the Eye stares back.

This does not feel like winning.

He has everything he wanted, now. Everything he planned. He is unkillable, eternal, undying. He is all-powerful, the King of The Ruined World. His god fills him up and feeds him, and he feeds it in turn, witnessing the horror it has unleashed upon the unsuspecting mass of humanity. His god is here with him, now, in his mind and in his body, watching as he tries to writhe against the paralysis that locks his limbs in place.

This is what he wanted. To be here. To be  _ exalted  _ in the Eye of his god.

And he is. He is as close to the Eye as it is possible for any living being to be, closer even than that oh so infamous  _ Archivist  _ that it has made a fuss over for so long.

The Archivist...

He is here, now, him and that assistant of his. Staring up at him, circling the edges of the room as they witness his torment, his  _ apotheosis. _ They have an appointment.

Did Jonah schedule it? He had told Rosie to invite them in. Or was that the Eye? They are so close, now, that it is sometimes difficult to distinguish which thoughts are his own and which come from that thing that has taken up residence in his mind.

He wonders if this was what it was like for Bouchard, for Wright, for Mendelson and all the rest, in those few moments when their consciousness struggled against his own before he was able to subsume them entirely.

He wonders how long it is before he is subsumed, under the weight and pressure of the uncaring Eye.

His throat is dry and cracked, but his voice is still clear and strong, laced with static though it is. His eyes burn from being held open so long. He wants to stop talking. He wants to blink. He wants to sink down into his comfortable old office chair, pour himself a glass of well-aged wine, and breathe a sigh of satisfaction at the end of a long day.

He speaks. He watches. He rules. He is everything he ever wanted to be.

Immortal. Untouchable.

Trapped in the depths of his own mind, Jonah Magnus screams.


End file.
